


To Burn

by murdergatsby



Series: Kinktober 2017 [12]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Branding, Hesitant Sadist Will Graham, M/M, Ownership, Pain, Scars, Verger branding, marking kink, will graham kinkshames himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-26 02:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12546960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/pseuds/murdergatsby
Summary: Will corrects the mark Mason left on Hannibal.





	To Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cutepoison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutepoison/gifts).



> My entry for [Kinktober2017](https://kinktober2017.tumblr.com/post/163962052261/kinktober-2017), day 27! The goal *was*, for everyday of October 2017, to post a small ficlet of either Hannigram or another Madancy (rare)pairing. I fell behind due to illness but I plan to do catch up. I am having SO much fun with this little personal challenge.
> 
> This one in-particular is Hannigram, for the October 27th prompt, "Branding." I've written about the brand Mason Verger left on Hannibal's back [before](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6404275/chapters/14661418) ([twice](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6209248), come to think of it) but that was AGES ago. My writing style has changed a lot, my tastes have changed, so I figured taking another shot at it wouldn't be the worst thing.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy <3

_“Why didn’t you make them remove it?”_

_“Does it bother you?”_

_“No, I just- don’t understand. Doesn’t it bother you?”_

_“Of course. I just had other plans for it.”_

\--

Will turned the metal grip over, and over, in the palm of his hand. It held a tiny chunk of steel, tightened into place so it couldn’t twist or fall. In his other hand he balanced a camping torch.

Hannibal removed his shirt from his shoulders and laid himself down on the mattress in front of him.

“Are you sure about this?” Will asked.

“Yes.” Hannibal said, the sound muffled by the way he supported his own chin on his crossed arms.

Will’s attention drew back to his tools, then back to the scar. He pulled on his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Is there anything specific you _want_ me to do?”

Will had asked about the mark because of his genuine curiosity as to why Hannibal had kept it intact for so long. Hannibal had received medical care when he was incarcerated, and he had the BHCI under his thumb- _if_ he had wanted the distinct pattern of the crest altered, he _could_ have had it done.

Will hadn’t expected the reasoning to involve him. He hadn’t expected Hannibal to request that he remove it for him, or that he had been keeping it for the very opportunity to present itself.

The Verger Family crest that Hannibal wore on his back was now presented in front of him like a dinner plate. His grasp on the metal tightened to the point of discomfort.

“No.” Hannibal replied, coolly. He breathed deep and let himself settle against the silken top sheet.

Will processed his situation for a while, in silence, then flicked on the torch. He held the steel to the flame until it turned bright orange, and then a little longer as he further convinced himself of what he was about to do. When he pressed the steel to the outer edge of the brand, the skin there immediately popping and pulling away from the heat, he quickly withdrew his hand.

Hannibal didn’t move, and looked comfy enough that he might fall asleep.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Will gasped, somehow finding himself out of breath. It was possible he had been holding it, he thought, but he hadn’t done it on purpose.

Hannibal shook his head, keeping his chin to his crossed arms. “Not if I don’t want it to.”

Will let a single nervous chuckle out of his belly. _Of course._ He began to heat the metal again.

“Do you want it to?” Hannibal asked. He turned to look back at Will, over his shoulder. He tried not to draw too much attention to the way Will looked back at him, with eyes wide and teeth clenched. Will looked _caught_.

“What?” Will replied. He sounded smoother than he looked. He turned the torch off and let the metal cool to the air.

“Do you _want it_ to hurt?” Hannibal repeated, this time softening his expression with a smile.

“No.” Will answered. “Of course not, no.”

 _His reply was too quick_ , Hannibal thought, _to be honest_. The torch was back on as soon as he was done speaking- all the hesitation he had before was blown down by the prospect of _this_ conversation he knew Hannibal was leading to. Now, he just wanted this done with.

However, Hannibal had only given him an inch of steel to work with. There was time for Hannibal to bring the topic back to light.

Will pressed the steel to the next bit of Hannibal’s back, and Hannibal winced.

Hannibal’s toes curled up into the soles of his feet, and he pulled his calves tight. He breathed out suddenly and rapidly. It was all for show and, judging by the sunset colors he found rising to Will’s cheeks, it had been a good one.

Will let out a shaky breath, and rubbed at his eyes with the backs of his hand. The pause between him taking the steel away again, and switching on the torch, told Hannibal he was considering mentioning it- maybe even scolding him for his embellishments. However, he didn’t say a word.

Will continued with his task, and Hannibal contemplated how much he should behave himself.

The feeling of his already scarred skin rapidly attempting to flee from the steels impossible heat _should_ have had Hannibal twisting, shouting, and biting into the flesh of his arm… but he knew it would be over in a moment. He knew Will would pull the steel away, his skin would continue to burn, and eventually the chemicals of his body would silence the pain for him. Through years of patient practice and experimentation, Hannibal had eliminated the wait time. It was a switch he could activate and, as it was important for their current silver of time together, de-activate.

Hannibal decided this could be something fun to play with.

The process was extensive. Flattening the details of the brand, inch by inch, took its toll on Hannibal quickly, without his shields. His body started to tremble, his eyes started to water, and his fists balls into themselves in desperate attempts to create a new and more distracting pain.

Will noticed the difference immediately. There was something corny and intentional about Hannibal’s movements in the beginning, but the way he twisted himself into the sheets now was honest. The way he hissed at a volume that swallowed the sound of his sizzling skin, and the way he groaned into the hollows of his arms.

“Hannibal,” Will said, balancing his tools awkwardly in his palms again; as if he weren’t sure what they were capable of, or what he could do with them, all over again. “I can stop.”

With a deep inhale, Hannibal turned to look back at him. Will’s eyes were heavy and glossy. A light blush had climbed up to his cheeks and had engulfed his throat. He looked worn-out, and just a hint embarrassed.

Seeing Will _shameful_ was something Hannibal felt he could never tire of.

“So can I.” Hannibal said. He smirked at him, with the same heavy lidded, glossy-eyed look. His hips moved against the mattress, driving in the point he wanted to make. “Keep going.”

This time, Hannibal watched him. Will’s eyes nervously flicked, from Hannibal’s eyes to the scar, as the steel heated. He gulped before pressing it down, with one _last_ look to Hannibal- a hopeful look, that he might look away. They both knew he wasn’t going to, and they both knew Will was too stubborn to quit and save his ego.

Will’s control over the way he presented himself had strengthened since the two of them had first met, but he still had a way to go as far as being completely opaque about his feelings. When Hannibal felt his skin peel back, he saw the corners of Will’s lips twitch into a smile. It was short lived, it was small, but it was enough for Hannibal to feel as if he had won something.

Will winced as if he had lost.

“Keep going.” Hannibal reminded him, keeping his eyes on him.

Will continued with his work, smirking every time Hannibal reacted to the pain he was causing him, and wincing every time he remembered that Hannibal _knew_ he was enjoying this. A part of him wondered if Hannibal was faking all his responses, or if he were embellishing them for his benefit.

 _Benefit_.

The concept of this repulsed him, but in practice…

When he finished, and the crest looked like nothing more than a collection of rectangular scales, Will was sweating and labored. His skin on his face was alive with rosy color, and he felt too sensitive to the air of the room.

“I think-” He said, between a deep gasp for breath. “I think I’m done.”

Hannibal slowly moved to sit up, catching Will groping at his own knees and impatiently glancing at his escape from the room. The bulge in his pants and dark, wet patch on his thigh was telling.

Hannibal checked his new branding, arching his back and looking down his spine. "I half expected you to leave you initials." Hannibal noted.

Will winced in confusion, then shook his head. "I don't own you."

Hannibal chuckled through his nose and stood up from the bed. The air of the room was like the hand of death against his back, but it was nothing he hadn't experienced before. "Don't you?" He asked, before collecting his shirt and gracefully exiting the room. 


End file.
